The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 6 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Floating Bride (Part One)

It was already evening when Maomao opened her eyes again. She’d meant to go shopping in town today—they’d said it was acceptable to leave the compound as long as she went with a bodyguard—but after everything that had happened the night before, it was hard to feel like going to market. She slept as long as she was able, and when she woke she was left with a clinging lethargy.

Oh! She looked at her wrinkled clothes in mild dismay, wondering if she should have changed into her sleepwear. First things first, though: she drank some water to rejuvenate her dried-out body. The water in the carafe was lukewarm, but a dash of citrus in it made it refreshing.

I wonder what we’re doing about dinner tonight, she thought. Thinking maybe she should go outside and see what was going on, she tried to brush the wrinkles out of her skirt. She got it to where it was just about presentable and stepped out of her room, only to find Jinshi and Basen coming down the hallway toward her.

Some considered Maomao capable of being quite brazen, but at that moment she felt distinctly awkward. The night before, having done what she’d done to Jinshi, she’d then excused herself on the pretext that she heard Lahan calling her. But that didn’t mean she could try to hide back in her room now.

Jinshi’s face as he approached was unusually haggard; he had a furrow in his brow worthy of Gaoshun, and his gaze was fixed—on Maomao, it seemed. The look lasted only for an instant before his usual calm expression returned. Basen, though, was looking at Jinshi with distress—so something was up.

Jinshi came toward her with footsteps that sounded inordinately loud.

What do I do here? Maomao wondered, but there was no time to think about it. The most she could do was to treat him normally. She bobbed her head in a polite nod and said, “Is something the matter, sir?”

Typically, the appropriate thing for a serving woman would be to speak only after Jinshi had spoken to her—but Maomao judged that it might be best for her to talk first at this moment. Jinshi’s mouth twisted, a conflicted look passing across his face, but it was hard to say if anyone else noticed it.

“I know it’s sudden, but I want you to change and come with me,” was all he said, and then he swept past her. Behind him came several serving women, holding up a box with a change of clothes and bowing their heads deeply.

“Yes, sir,” Maomao replied. Under the circumstances, it was the only thing she could say.

After she’d changed, she was hustled into a carriage. Jinshi and Basen, also in fresh outfits, were already inside.

Maomao glanced around. She’d spent most of her time here in Lahan’s company—was it all right for her to act on her own with Jinshi and Basen?

“It was I who called you here, you see,” Jinshi said. “Considering that our schedules were aligned for this very purpose, we could hardly not go.” However he might be feeling about her, he at least had the wherewithal to talk normally to her. She was glad he was adult enough for that, but she couldn’t help feeling there was something lurking behind his “It was I.”

“And where are we going, sir?”

“To a wedding banquet for a certain household.” Another banquet. Well, apparently this was part of the job. “I had intended to refuse, but the host insisted, this being such a joyous occasion. And besides...”

“Yes, sir?”

Jinshi gave Basen a significant look, and he pulled out the wanted poster he’d shown Maomao earlier.

“I gather that the family of the young woman to be married originally came from the north. They were one of the houses charged with ruling this area after the destruction of the Yi clan.”

The Yi clan had governed these lands once, until they were exterminated in the time of the empress regnant. That would mean this family had been transplanted here several decades before.

“The young lady’s feet are bound,” Jinshi informed her. As she’d suspected.

“Was there no one besides this...young lady?” That was something Maomao wanted to be particularly sure about—she couldn’t go accusing people of being criminals on nothing more than an assumption.

“Several,” Jinshi said. “One of the young woman’s ladies-in-waiting, for example. The real issue is whom the woman is getting married to—they say he’s from Shaoh.”

“I see.”

It was a delegation from Shaoh that had brought the lion—and perhaps who had rigged the cage to break.

“Most importantly of all, the young woman is to set out on a journey tomorrow.” Today, they would hold the marriage feast—and then the next day, she would set out for her husband’s country.

“That seems rather hasty.”

“Or rather deliberate.”

So apparently they wanted Maomao to find some kind of proof of wrongdoing. “And if I’m unable to find anything?”

“We’ll have to come up with another way. My stay here may be extended.” The desire to avoid that was written on Jinshi’s face. He’d already been away from the capital for close to a month, and the work the Emperor’s younger brother had to do would have been piling up all that time. Yet they had to find this culprit. “This could also adversely affect the U clan, and I’d like to avoid that.”

“I’m not confident I’ll find anything,” Maomao said. She wanted to be clear about that much.

“I understand.” Jinshi turned to gaze out the window, and didn’t look at her again for the rest of the ride.

They arrived at another mansion built near an oasis. The style was rather different from that of Empress Gyokuyou’s family home; this building looked more like something that might be found back east. The building itself, and the garden it boasted, wouldn’t have looked out of place in the capital.

As they went to the gate and proceeded down a flagstone path, they found water flowing by on both sides. Willow trees swayed gently, making the place look refreshing, while open-air pavilions with vermilion posts and yellow roofs dotted the estate. There was a large pond in which lotus leaves floated. The surface of the water rippled occasionally, and each time a pebble fell into a canal, there was a splashing of fish.

Carp?

Carp were a hardy species, but Maomao was impressed the household was able to keep them in such a desiccated environment.

“Was this house left behind by the Yi clan?” Jinshi wondered aloud. If these people had been sent to replace an annihilated clan who’d lived in the lap of luxury, they might understandably have simply moved into the extant mansion. It was certainly an opulent place, but there was something sad about it too. Empress Gyokuyou’s home—Gyokuen’s mansion—was lively and bustling; this residence felt subdued.

As they crossed the bridge over the lake, they saw someone coming the other direction, bowing obsequiously. “My apologies for being so late in greeting you,” the person said. He must have been the master of the house. He was plump, his hairline beginning to recede. Behind him was a woman they took to be his wife. Her feet were small, and her shoes strangely shaped.

“I’m sure my daughter will be overjoyed to receive the congratulations of the Night Prince.”

The Night Prince? Maomao wondered. She surmised the term referred to Jinshi. Not many people in this land could refer to him by his actual name, but it seemed to involve the character for “moon”—hence, perhaps, this nickname.

“If I may welcome you in, then,” the man continued, ushering them toward the building. A carpet had been laid out in the pavilion, and a small boat and lanterns floated on the lake. It was only dusk now, but when darkness fell it would look eerie.

“Hey. This way,” Basen called to Maomao.

Jinshi was seated beside the master, while next in line sat Gyokuen, apparently also an invited guest of the wedding.

“We pushed the matter a little to get you here,” Basen explained, apropos of the seating. “That’s really where Consort Lishu should have been. That’s why you’re a ways off. I’ll have a lady-in-waiting assigned to you—use her if you need anything.”

So that was why Maomao’s seat appeared to have been prepared in haste. A woman who certainly did look like a lady-in-waiting appeared from behind Basen as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

There were several other women there besides Maomao, but all of them had large, healthy feet. One of the seats of honor was occupied by a middle-aged man with hair that almost shone and sharp, angular facial features. A foreigner. In the other seat was a young woman wearing a veil over her head. Dressed all in white, she sat as still and silent as a doll.

Is that her? Maomao thought. She looked pliant enough—but it could be an act.

Resisting the urge to go for the alcohol, Maomao drank some juice. It was somewhat unusual to hold a banquet like this outside, at night, but the food and the music all seemed basically familiar. Maomao was frankly tired of banquets, and she didn’t feel the need to appraise this one very thoroughly. She was just going to enjoy some good food and keep an eye on the bride.

Ugh, what’s going on here?

Since they’d brought Maomao along, she did feel she ought to find something for them—but so far she hadn’t had a single chance to act. First one person had spoken to her a little while before, and then it was like the dam had burst; people wouldn’t stop talking to her. Why? Because she was Jinshi’s companion, she surmised. Everyone was smiling and sipping wine, but deep in their eyes the emotions burned—ambition in the eyes of the men, jealousy in those of the women.

It wasn’t lost on Maomao that this could be why Jinshi had brought her along: to show her what it was like to attend a function with the Emperor’s younger brother, and not as his serving lady, as she’d done before.

Ugh. No, no!

Was it selfish of her to wish he would just act normal, not let the events of the previous night change how he treated her? She wanted her relationship with him to be professional, the way it had always been as each of them used and was used by the other. That was what would be best for Maomao at this moment.

“A most modest young lady you are,” someone said.

Maomao didn’t specifically respond. A veil covered most of her face—and she did a lot of her talking through the serving woman who had been assigned to her to help ensure she didn’t say anything untoward. The nasty edge of pleasure-district talk had reentered her speech lately, after all.

If that’s how it looks to you, fine, she thought. She let her gaze wander to the seats at the center of the banquet to discover that somewhere along the line, the bride had disappeared. Maomao’s lady-in-waiting seemed to sense where her attention had gone, for she whispered in her ear, “I gather she’s gone to freshen her makeup.”

Maomao got up, thinking she might use the restroom herself, but she was trapped, surrounded by people who couldn’t seem to take a hint. She glanced over at Jinshi and Basen, who appeared to be in the same situation. Basen was glumly receiving pours of alcohol from various women—perhaps it would have been ungenerous to press him about whether his face was red from the drinks or for some other reason.

As Maomao was busy trying to think of a suitable excuse to get out of there, there was a great boom. She turned to find everyone around her looking toward the source of the noise.

The lantern-laden boat on the lake was shining brighter than ever. Fireworks were flying across the water, obviously the source of the noise. So the evening had been set to include fireworks.

“Hah! Gorgeous! I love it!” a drunken man proclaimed, working his way unsteadily out of the pavilion. He waded into the pond (what was he thinking?) and grabbed one of the carp with both hands. “Gorgeous! I love it! I wish this were snapper, but I won’t carp about it!”

It was a terrible joke, but in any event he gave the fish to a friend and said, “Would you have this cooked up for me?”

The servant obviously wasn’t sure how to respond to that particular request, but was rescued by the head of the house, the father of the bride. “Hey, you!” he said. “I know this is a joyous occasion for your niece, but that’s no excuse to go making an ass of yourself. Everyone’s looking.”

“Ha ha ha! Hullo, Elder Brother! No, it’s all good.”

“The Night Prince must be appalled.”

Jinshi, the one who had suddenly been invoked, was smiling. Merely a polite smile, no doubt, but it was enough to enrapture all those around him, who, despite his injury, still felt he reminded them of a celestial nymph.

“I do pity that poor fish. Why not put it back?” he said. The party had become a free-for-all, notwithstanding the presence of the Emperor’s younger brother. Such a scene would have been unthinkable in the capital.

Everyone was smiling and laughing at the exchange. The carp was returned to the pond and somehow escaped without being cooked that evening. Still, it couldn’t have been easy for the fish, first with fireworks going off right over their heads, then being grabbed by inebriated partygoers. Maomao looked at the dark water. She tried dropping some breadcrumbs in, but there was no sign of the fish coming to get them. All the commotion must have scared them away.

With the addition of more alcohol, the party became ever freer, yet still the bride hadn’t returned. Jinshi had taken notice of that fact by now, and he and the bridegroom were both eyeing the vacant seat.

“Perhaps tonight’s star has gone to make herself shine even brighter?” Jinshi ventured. Hadn’t the girl’s uncle said that the bride was going to fix her makeup? Most of the women in the crowd didn’t seem to buy it; the ladies-in-waiting had largely left the banquet area.

Not long after, one of them returned in a panic. Her face was pale and she could hardly speak; she could only point toward the far side of the lake.

Well, now...

Maomao caught a burning smell, and then she heard shouting. She turned toward the yelling to see one of the guests, who was himself looking in the direction the lady-in-waiting was pointing. His mouth was flapping open and shut like one of the carp, and he was pointing to the sky with a trembling finger. No—not the sky, but a building in a corner of the estate, a four-tiered pagoda. Something was faintly visible on the highest floor.

“The y-y-young mistress is...hanging...” the lady-in-waiting finally managed. All the guests who had been enjoying themselves at the banquet collectively turned pale.

The dim silhouette could be seen dangling from the roof of the pagoda, its feet swaying gently back and forth. The white bridal gown billowed like a cloud.

“To the tower!” Jinshi said; he and Basen were the first to act. The bridegroom, the bride’s father, and her uncle followed him belatedly, and Maomao joined them in heading for the pagoda at a run. They crossed the verdant garden, the smoke from the fireworks obscuring and diffusing the light from the lanterns floating in the canal. They could hear the carp splashing.

The pagoda was clearly visible, but there was no straight path between them and it. Trees and other buildings stood in their way, obstacles they had to work their way around to reach their destination. With their way well lit by the lanterns, at least they wouldn’t fall.

Maomao entered the pagoda a few steps behind the others and raced up the stairs. She reached the top floor panting, to find the men staring disbelievingly at the dangling rope: it had snapped.

“Find her! Check the ground around the pagoda!” Basen roared and set off back down the stairs. He might be a somewhat simple personality, but at least he was decisive at moments like this.

The others, taking their cue from him, headed back down, but Jinshi was still looking outside. They were perhaps four jo (twelve meters) off the ground. If the girl had been strangled by the rope but it had then snapped, what were the chances she’d survived?

Just about zero, I’d say, Maomao thought. Whether her neck had broken or whether she’d suffocated, no one could survive hanging there that long. On the floor by the swaying rope was a pair of small shoes worked with embroidery—they had belonged to the bride.

“What do you make of it?” Jinshi asked, looking from the rope to the ground and back. The rope was tied under the eaves, and the other end had snapped off. Looking down, they could see the roofs overlapping. Maybe the girl had tumbled over them on her way down.

“I don’t know,” Maomao said honestly, and Jinshi smiled.

“I wheedled the truth out of her,” Jinshi murmured. “Is this what I’ve wrought?” He had been sitting at the central seat at the banquet and could have said something to the bride. He glanced down, and just for a second, he looked as if he were chewing sand. He turned his back on the little shoes, but he didn’t look up. “Do you think me a terrible person?”

After a second Maomao said, “I don’t know, sir.” Jinshi had only done his job. Somebody would have had to sooner or later, or the culprit would have fled to the west. And they had to avoid that.

Unable to think of anything else to say, Maomao remained silent.

Finally Jinshi said, “Let’s go,” and his voice was cold.

“Yes, sir.” Maomao descended the steps slowly, nursing a question as she worked her way down the steep staircase.

It wasn’t long before they found the bride, but she was in no shape to be seen. Her white robe was singed; her arms and legs, bent at unsettling angles, were likewise blackened; and her head had been broken open. But they found the rope around her neck, and recognized her small, misshapen feet. She had been soaked in lantern oil that had then been set alight. It was more than enough to make the intoxicated guests feel very sober indeed.